Champions
by ScaleneGalleons
Summary: "Why did Harry always have to be the one that saved the day? Couldn't he stop playing 'hero,' just once? Why didn't Harry tell him that he was trying? He couldn't be even be bothered telling his best friend about it. Not even a quick mention." What did Ron feel when Harry got selected for the Triwizard tournament?


**{A/N Decided to try and write something other than my AU story. Like it, hate it? Read and review.}**

"The champion for Durmstrang... will be Viktor Krum!"

_Obviously! _thought Ron. Out loud, he said, "No surprises there!"

All eyes in the Great Hall turned back to the Goblet of Fire, the sound of chatter and applause fading. It turned red once more, ejecting another small piece of parchment.

"The champion for Beauxbatons... is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted. Ron sat up straighter in his chair, ducking back down when he spotted who it was.

_So that's her name._ A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Ron could see Harry smirking slightly at his face, which matched his hair perfectly.

"Oh, look," said Hermione, barely audible over the noise. "They're all disappointed," she noted, severely understating their emotions. All the other Beauxbatons students were looking as though somebody had told them their entire family was murdered.

This time, the silence came quicker. The Hogwarts champion was next. Excitement and anticipation was thick in the air. All eyes followed the parchment that shot into the air.

"The Hogwarts champion... is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" Ron slammed his fist down onto the table but that sound was drowned out by the cheers coming from the Hufflepuff table. Every single badger was on their feet, yelling and stamping.

"Excellent," beamed Dumbledore.

_Not so excellent,_ Ron thought bitterly. Why couldn't the champion have been a Gryffindor? That way, they'd at least have had a _chance _of winning the competition.

"Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give our champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

Ron, who had been glaring at the table as if the fault was the wood's, looked up. Professor Dumbledore had never stopped in the middle of a speech before.

_This isn't supposed to happen._The goblet's fire had turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. It looked far from 'dormant,' which was what it was supposed to turn after choosing the three champions. The entire Great Hall gasped in unison as another piece of parchment was shot into the air.

It seemed an eternity before Dumbledore read the name of the _fourth _champion.

"Harry Potter."

Ron was almost one hundred percent sure that everybody would have whiplash tomorrow. All heads turned to Harry, who was sitting in a state of shock.

No applause. No congratulating. No sound.

_How'd he manage to trick his way into the tournament?_ Ron felt amazed.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, who were both staring blankly at their friend.

"I didn't put my name in. You know I didn't."

_Sure..._

"Harry Potter!" called Professor Dumbledore. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Hermione seemed to have gained some sort of control back at a professor's direct orders. She gave Harry a small push and whispered, "Go on."

Eyes followed the famous 'Boy-Who-Lived' as he walked to the side room. Once he was gone, whispers broke out across the room.

"How d'you think he did it?" asked Ron. If anybody knew how it was possible to trick that goblet, it would be Hermione.

"I... don't think he did."

"Of course-" Ron's protest was interrupted by Professor McGonagall.

"I know that this did not go the way we all expected," said the Head of the Gryffindor House. "But, rest assured, there will be a solution. For now, would everybody please return to their respective dorms." Abruptly, she stood and walked briskly to the room where the champions were gathered. Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Professor Snape seemed to all take this as a cue, for they all stood up and followed.

Everything turned to chaos. Gryffindors stared cheering, finally seeming to have understood what it meant for the fourth champion to be 'one of them.' The Hufflepuffs were all gathered together, looking rather dejected. Slytherins and Ravenclaws were torn between looking happy that Hogwarts would have an extra champion and annoyed that it had to be 'the Harry Potter' (honestly, didn't he have enough fame and couldn't he resist having to be in the spotlight to give somebody else a chance for once?).

Loudest were the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, who were all on their feet yelling and complaining.

Through the general noise, Ron could hear three general types of yelling:

The angry people, who were complaining about Hogwarts having an extra champion.

The confused ones, who often repeated 'But that's impossible!' (or for the Beauxbatons students, 'C'est impossible!').

And then there were the beyond-angry-absolutely-furious students, who were shouting obscene insults about Hogwarts' honour and where they could shove it.

Three flare-like lights shot into the air, exploding spectacularly. They were loud enough to be heard above the racket. Students stopped shouting long enough to see who had cast the spell.

"You heard Professor McGonagall," growled Mad-Eye Moody, clutching his wand. "Get back to your dorms."

Apparently, an angry, ex-Auror was something nobody wanted, especially focused on them. The Great Hall was evacuated in the blink of an eye, though there were still mutterings heard. Ron walked slowly, not wanting to be caught up in the crowd of people. He could hear the uneven footsteps as Moody walked into the side room.

"Ron," urged Hermione, "we have to go." He let himself be dragged away by the worried-looking brunette.

"I can't believe it. Harry's the - Balderdash - fourth champion," Hermione said as they were getting through the portrait.

"I just can't believe he was able to fool the goblet," said Ron. She turned to him with a curious expression.

"You actually think he fooled the goblet?"

"How else could he have gotten in? Even if he got somebody else to put his name in for him, there can't be _two _champions."

"But the goblet is-"

"Okay!" yelled Fred, interrupted Hermione's explanation. He and George were standing on the couch.

"We've decided-" began George.

"To hold a party-"

"For Harry!"

"Can just one of you speak?" snapped a seventh year.

Fred grinned in amusement. "Alrighty then, good sir." He turned back to the gathering audience of Gryffindors. "As you all know, itty-bitty Harry is the fourth champion!" A round of applause. Fred listed off things he would need, delegating some Gryffindors to go retrieve what was needed.

Fred and George were able to get Butterbeer and Firewhiskey, candies and banners. Lee Jordan had even retrieved a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, announcing his plan to use it as a cloak. The efforts were only redoubled when Violet from the portrait informed them that Harry was indeed allowed to enter in the tournament.

It was exciting. It was joyous. It was a celebration. It was...

_Unbearable..._

When Harry finally stepped through the door, Ron took the chance to escape. To the quiet, where he wouldn't have to listen to the cheering and congratulations. Where he wouldn't have to listen to Harry pretend that he 'didn't put his name in' (_Yeah right)._Where he wouldn't have to listen to the proof that Harry was better than him in every way, shape, and form.

The more Ron thought about it, the angrier he got. Why did Harry always have to be the one that saved the day? Couldn't he stop playing 'hero,' just once? Obviously, he'd found out that Quidditch was canceled and couldn't bear not receiving congratulations for a well played game. He'd just have to receive those in another way. Why didn't Harry tell him that he was trying? Couldn't the two of them have done it together? Then, at least, Ron wouldn't've felt nearly as angry as he was.

But, no. Mr. I'm-Famous-And-I-Need-Attention had to try for himself. He couldn't even be bothered telling his best friend about it. Not even a quick mention.

His bitter train of thought stopped as the door to the dorm opened.

_And look who it is. Mr. Hero_.

"Where'd you been?" asked Harry.

"Oh, hello." Ron grinned in a strained sort of way, trying to contain his anger. He could see Harry's confused look.

"So... Congratulations." The words sounded false even to his own ears.

"What d'you mean, congratulations?" _Still playing innocent, huh?_

"Well... no one else got across the Age Line. Not even Fred and George. What did you use - the Invisibility Cloak?" He had to know, had to understand why Harry hadn't told him.

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got me over that line." _Oh, just stop playing innocent already, would you?_

"Oh, right. I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak... because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?" _Do you need me to spell it out for you? How. Did. You. Do. It?_

"Listen. I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."

Ron raised an eyebrow. Was Harry even trying to fool him? Did he honestly think that Ron was that big of an idiot?

"What would they do that for?"

"I dunno."

"It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth. If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either..."

"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" _Lies! All lies. Why would somebody else give you the opportunity of a lifetime? Why would they decrease their own chances of winning?_

"Yeah, okay. Only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would've seen you... I'm not stupid, you know."

"You're doing a really good impression of it."

"Yeah?_" And you're doing a brilliant impression of a LIAR. _"You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something." Ron yanked his hangings shut around his bed. Didn't his friend trust him at all?

~.~.~.~.~

Ron woke up the next morning, feeling disgruntled and not at all rested. _Guess this is what happens when you go to bed angry._

He dressed silently, not wanting to wake up Harry and start another mini-argument. Besides, Ron wasn't going to speak to him until Harry told the truth. At least to Ron and Hermione. At least.

"Where's Harry?" asked Fred as Ron entered the Common Room.

"Dunno. Sleeping?" Without a moment's pause, he exited the room. Down at breakfast, nothing improved his mood. Even if there was something to eat, no matter where he looked, he couldn't escape Hermione's glare. She was glaring daggers at him as he ate, chatting with Seamus and Dean.

As soon as he was finished, Ron escaped the Great Hall, leaving no time for Hermione to talk to him.

~.~.~.~.~

"I was talking to Harry this morning."

_Damn. _Ron hadn't been able to turn the corner fast enough to avoid Hermione as he'd been doing for the past week.

"Were you?" He quickened his pace, hoping to lose her.

"Why don't you believe him?" _And she says I have no tact._

At Ron's shrug, Hermione glared. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop walking. "That's no answer. You're his best mate, Ron. Why don't you trust-"

"Why do you believe him?" snapped Ron. She dared to accuse him of not trusting Harry when obviously Harry didn't trust Ron enough to tell him the truth.

"Because he's my friend!"

"Well, that's good for you two." And he walked away.

~.~.~.~.~

_Double Potions... Joy_.

Ron, Seamus, and Dean were early, meaning that they had to wait. Wait for the worst class ever to start. Well, maybe not the worst class. After all, there was still Lockhart who-

_No, no, no. _Ron refused to think about how he and Harry had gone down into the Chamber to rescue his sister and how Harry went alone despite-

_Stop thinking, _thought Ron, irritated at himself.

It was quiet, Slytherins on one side and Gryffindors on the other, until Harry and Hermione came.

"Like them, Potter?" said Malfoy loudly. "And this isn't all they do - look!" Ron had noticed the 'Support Cedric Diggory' badges that all the Slytherins were sporting, but didn't make any comments. Around them, the snakes howled with laughter and pressed theirs, brandishing the 'Potter stinks!' message.

"Oh, very funny," said Hermione. "Really witty."

"Want one, Granger?" He held a badge out. For a second, Ron almost felt as though Malfoy expected Hermione to actually take it. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Ron felt a burst of anger, which he quickly squashed down. This wasn't his problem now. Harry pulled his wand out, pointing it squarely at Malfoy's face.

"Harry!" said Hermione.

"Go on, then, Potter. Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts." Ron felt tempted to laugh at the memory of 'Malfoy, the amazing, bouncing ferret.'

Harry and Malfoy glared at each other, acting at the same time. Ron started when the spells didn't hit each other. Instead, one beam of light hit Hermione and the other Goyle.

"Hermione!" Even if he was angry at Harry for not telling the truth, Hermione was still his friend. Reaching forward, Ron placed a hand on Hermione's so that he could see what the spell had done to her.

_Beaver teeth... _Ron couldn't help but wonder how that would've looked on Harry.

"And what is all this noise about?" The Slytherins were all clamouring to explain a, no doubt, biased tale. Professor Snape pointed a finger at Malfoy. "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir-"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Malfoy continued talking (sucking up) as though Harry hadn't shouted.

"-and he hit Goyle; look." As Goyle's face was revealed, Ron felt the urge to laugh. It was what he deserved.

"Hospital Wing, Goyle." That was enough to prompt Ron into acting.

"Malfoy got Hermione! Look!" Ron pulled down her hands again to reveal the teeth, which were now around her collar. Ron felt a sense of dread as the professor's face remained unsympathetic and cold.

"I see no difference," Snape said dismissively. Hermione burst into tears and ran out of the class.

"YOU BAS-" Thankfully, Harry had started yelling at the same time, making it impossible to tell what either he or Ron were saying.

"Let's see... Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions." For a second, Ron considered defying the professor's orders, but there was nothing to gain except going into the negative points.

Ron and Harry walked angrily side by side into the classroom. For a moment, Ron's anger had been redirected at Malfoy. That moment was over as he headed over to where Seamus and Dean were sitting.

"That git," whispered Seamus. Dean nodded in agreement.

"He's a professor, not another student."

"He's a bloody horrible professor," said Ron.

"He's a bloody horrible person," Dean corrected.

"Yes?" said the aforementioned 'bloody horrible person.' The three boys looked up from their conversation at the change in their professor's tone to find an excited Colin Creevey standing just inside the classroom.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs." _Does he really think that's going to work on Snape?_

"Potter has another hour of Potions to complete. He will come upstairs when this class is finished."

"Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman wants him. All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs..." Ron scowled. Of course the famous Harry Potter would be getting out of a tough Potions class to get photos taken for the Triwizard tournament.

"Very well, very well," said Snape, sounding as though somebody had forced him to admit that Harry was a better student that Malfoy. "Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote." _That's fair._

"Please, sir - he's got to take his things with them." _And he's getting out of class... _"All the champions-"

"Very well! Potter - take your bag and get out of my sight!" Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and left.

"Antidotes," Snape started again.

It turned out that Snape was bluffing about poisoning one of the students, although Ron was sure that, given a chance, the professor wouldn't have hesitated to use a poison on Harry.

"Weasley. Detention tomorrow night here. Tell Potter." Without another word, Snape turned back down to his papers, effectively dismissing Ron.

~.~.~.~.~

Ron woke up with a yawn. It wasn't often that he couldn't sleep, but when he couldn't, nothing was right. It was too cold. It was too hot. It was too stuffy. It was too chilly. It was too everything.

He turned onto his side and noticed that Harry's bed was empty. _Odd... _

It wasn't until he was halfway down the staircase that Ron remembered that he and Harry weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. He was debating turning back and trying to sleep when he heard a voice.

"-simple spell's all you need. Just-" _Why did that voice sound so familiar?_

There was a moment of silence and Ron descended further down the stairs. Who was talking to whom in the middle of the Common Room at one in the morning?

"Go!" _Harry's voice._ "Go! There's someone coming!"

When Ron reached the bottom of the stairs, he looked around the room curiously. Most likely, whoever Harry was talking to would've only had time to hide behind a couch or somewhere obvious like that. But there was no telltale elongated shadow.

"Who were you talking to?" asked Ron.

"What's that got to do with you?" Ron was taken aback by Harry's tone. _What's wrong with him? _"What are you doing down here this time of night?"

_What are you doing here? _"I just wondered where you-" Ron shrugged. "Nothing. I'm going back to bed."

"Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?" shouted Harry.

_Well I'm sorry for coming down into the GRYFFINDOR COMMON ROOM? You know I'm a Gryffindor too, right? But of course, Mr. Famous has no time to think about anything else. _"Sorry about that," Ron said sarcastically. "Should've realized you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace."

Before Ron even had time to draw breath, Harry had chucked one of the 'Potter Stinks' badges, which now read 'Potter Really Stinks', at Ron's forehead. It didn't hurt but still shocked the redhead.

"There you go. Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky... That's what you want, isn't it?"

For a second, Ron almost felt like punching Harry. But he stood still as the angry Gryffindor stomped back upstairs.

Was it true? Did Ron really want a scar? Did Harry really think that?

~.~.~.~.~

Bagman popped out of the tent that the champions were in.

_Is Harry in there?_ Ron felt worry turn his stomach until he felt like throwing up. They'd been informed by that the first task would be to get past a dragon.

A dragon.

A fire-breathing lizard.

A fire-breathing lizard that could fly.

A fire-breathing lizard that could fly and was 100 times the size of a champion.

That was real smart of Dumbledore.

The reality of the competition hadn't really hit Ron until that morning, when Harry was called away from breakfast to go to the 'champions tent.'

But now it was real.

The tournament was something that Ron thought was a slight risk. Like gambling, you'd lose some for the chance of winning. But when he'd seen the real dragons (fire-breathing, huge, flying, vicious; those dragons) waiting for the champions, he remembered how Hermione had nagged them that this tournament was dangerous and not just a Quidditch game.

None of the three older champions left without injuries. Ron couldn't help realizing how much more experienced they were than Harry, how much of a disadvantage his friend was at.

And when Harry stepped in front of the dragon, holding nothing but a wand, Ron realized he wasn't mad.

He, Ron Weasley, was not mad at Harry Potter.

He was _jealous._

_What kind of friend am I, being jealous when my friend needed me?_

Ron, along with the entire audience, was on edge when Harry summoned his broomstick and swerved in the air to avoid being skewered by the Horntail's tail. He heard Hermione shriek quietly when she realized that the Horntail had made a gash on Harry's arm.

Finally, _finally, _Harry had the egg. The dragon was subdued quickly by the handlers and Harry was ushered away to get checked for injuries. Seeing Hermione stand up, Ron followed her to the tent.

"So you here to apologize?" asked Hermione. Ron nodded, and she smiled a little. "Finally."

When Harry was in view, Hermione's small smile broke into a wide grin. "Harry, you were brilliant! You were amazing! You really were!"

Ron knew that Harry was waiting for him to say something. But how did one apologize for being a completely prick to his best friend?

"Harry, whoever put your name in that goblet - I - I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you? Took you long enough." His cold tone made Ron hesitate. He opened his mouth, trying to form an apology, but Harry interrupted. "It's okay. Forget it."

_I can't just forget this. _"No. I shouldn't've-"

"Forget it." Ron recognized the stubborn look on his friend's face and grinned, glad when he received one in return.

Needless to say, he was extremely surprised when Hermione burst into tears.

"There's nothing to cry about!" said Harry. _I agree,_thought Ron.

"You two are so stupid!" She stamped her foot, gave them both a quick hug, dashing away right after.

"Barking mad," Ron said, shaking his head in amusement. "Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores..."

And it was as if the last few weeks had never happened. Everything was fine once more.

**~ScaleneGalleons~**


End file.
